


the ordinary me became an angel in your arms

by seoduction



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Prostitution, escort AU, raven is legally a griffin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seoduction/pseuds/seoduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke got her heart broken and instead of a tub of ice cream or a pack of cookies or eleven slices of cake, she craves for angry sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. stupid cupid (wake up)

When Raven told her to get back on track and move on, Clarke didn’t think she would find herself sitting on top of her unmade bed and in front of her laptop, browsing through an escort agency website looking for a good _company_ on a Friday afternoon. She is _angry_ — at Finn and at herself for being stupid enough to be played with — and she craves for _angry_ sex. Clarke knows better than to try to sleep with any one of her friends, she’s not going to cross that line since she’s needy and frustrated because her ~~boyfriend~~ ex-boyfriend cheated on her with his little sister’s admittedly very hot math tutor.

It has been almost an hour of endless, desperate scrolling when she sighs. There are pictures of the escorts above their names and contact information and they’re all attractive but Clarke wanted a good fuck and not a good-looking model for her new project (that’s what her friends are for). She takes a glance at the screen and dials the number of the agency before shutting the laptop close.

“ _Hello, Good Afternoon._ ” Someone answers the calls after half a ring. It was very rare that she didn’t have to wait longer for a response. A+ Customer Services. So far so good, Clarke notes, also, very polite. “ _This is Grounder Grind,_ ” Clarke was so needy she didn’t even get to read the name of the agency earlier and it sounds fairly comical out loud but oddly sexual at the same time, she has to stifle a giggle. “ _How can we help you today?_ ”

Clarke is not sure what to say. “I, um.”She never thought there would come a time where she would literally order and pay for someone she could sleep with. This feels a lot like pizza, Clarke notes again. Except it’s not pizza this time. “I would like to book an escort.”

“ _Oh,_ ” There is a pause from the other line and she uses the time to wonder what other services does Grounder Grind offer. “ _Thank you for settling on our agency, we have a catalogue on our website where you could—_ ”

She cuts the teller off, “Yeah, I know. I looked through it just now but I couldn’t decide.” The teller hums in understanding as Clarke puts pressure on her forehead with her palm, “Is there a random option?”

“ _Yes, of course. But you could also e-mail us with your preference or type, identification and contact information at groundgrind@bookings.com and we would arrange the meeting._ ” The teller says.

“Okay, um. I’d just send you the details then. Thanks.”

“ _You’re welcome, thank you for choosing our services. Have a nice day.”_ The teller hangs up first, Clarke pockets her phone and lifts her laptop open. _Thank you for choosing our services_ , It’s not like she had any other choice, she’s not familiar with this kind of business and it’s the first result that came out when she inputted _um, sex for sale?_ on the search bar.

Clarke realizes she didn’t think this through. She just wanted to forget about Finn and the many things (things that made her swoon and things that made her mourn) he did to her but here she is, typing an application letter to an escort agency for their services. It feels strange but she also feels ignorant for thinking that she just have to call someone for a one-night stand when there is clearly more work to do than just a talk on the phone. She doesn’t take a step back, nevertheless. Clarke proceeds on constructing her e-mail. This whole thing reminds me of college. From ordering pizza to writing applications. Is it bad to be comparing these two completely different things?

She’s almost done with the letter when she thinks about her preference. If she wants to forget Finn — she needs change, she needs to get out of her comfort zone. And she could think of one change that would be most applicable to the situation she is in right now.

To: groundgrind@bookings.com  
From: cgriffin@yahoo.com  
Subject: Client

Hello. My name is Clarke and I would like to make an appointment with an escort. It’s my first time trying this service and I have decided the date — is tomorrow @ 8pm alright? (But of course if you would like to have our meeting, the escort and I, on a different time and day, I’m fine with whenever you’re pleased to schedule it. The place is also not a problem. We can discuss it in further correspondence. You can find my number at the end of this e-mail.) I have no specific preference or “type” except — can I ask for a queer girl?

Contact number: xxx-xxxx-xxxx

Clarke clicks on the send button and it feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She’s not burdened about writing an e-mail, she just feels nervous — which was evident with the way she wrote the letter. It seems too formal for Clarke’s liking. She also regrets typing the last line. She doesn’t regret requesting for a queer girl, she regrets requesting for a queer girl the way she did. She hopes whoever gets to read it doesn’t take offense. She made queer girls sound like something they’re not, like a product for a customer’s consumption or entertainment — which in this case, as escorts, they somewhat are. But she knows better than to judge someone who works for a living and earns enough money to support their family, no matter the occupation is.

 

//

 

Clarke springs out of the bathroom, arms clutching her chest and a towel wrapped around her torso. Shamefully enough, this is the first time she took a shower after breaking up with him. She figures if she want to move on, she has to stop being such a lazy fucking potato just because her heart was broken by a fuckboy.

She’s twenty-three, jesus _christ_.

She needs to step up her game of Being A Grown Ass Woman if she wants to conquer the world, she should start eating healthier, too and it’d be nice to work out at least once before she meets her escort, it’d be embarrassing to request for someone if she doesn’t look good herself.

When she’s dressed, Clarke fishes her phone from a dump of her dirty clothes, dials a batch of digits (she had it memorized for her convenience) and orders a — who would’ve thought — _pizza_. _I guess I have to pause my game of Being A Grown Ass Woman for now._

She makes her bed and changes the sheets. It’s the only messy spot left in her room, she managed to force herself to clean before heading for a shower.

When she opens her laptop, there is already a new e-mail waiting for her.

To: cgriffin@yahoo.com  
From: groundgrind@bookings.com  
Subject: Re: Client

Good Afternoon. We received your letter of request for our services, you are not going to regret this decision.

For your preference as you made it clear in your letter, we have a number of queer girls available at your designated time, tomorrow at 8pm, and since you mentioned that this is your first time, we would make sure you get the most out of this experience by assigning you to our best one of them.

However, we need you to go to our website, groundgrind.com, and read the etiquette page. We offer our customers want they want, and we offer our escorts their safety. Thank you.

Here is the escort’s contact number for you to discuss the details of the meeting: xxx-xxxx-xxxx

Clarke saves the number immediately, she didn’t think it would be this fast. One minute she’s weeping about getting cheated on, then she’s about to see an escort the next.

She refrains from calling the escort though, she didn’t want to seem eager. Instead, she goes to the website earlier and checks the etiquette page the e-mail mentioned.

 

She almost regrets her decision after reading the whole thing when the doorbell rings. An escort’s job is more complicated than she thought. Their safety (perhaps hers too, soon) is on the line. There were cases of abusive clients, as written on the website, and it made Clarke feel worse than she already did doing this. The doorbell rings once again and she hopes it’s the delivery boy and not Raven or Octavia or Bellamy or any of her friends or her mom because then she’d have to tell them about the escort and frankly, she doesn’t want them to know about it. At least for now. They can always smell dirt when she’s hiding something.

Clarke deflates in relief when she opens the door and sees a boy in a yellow and black uniform, holding up a box. She makes sure to generously tip him before snatching her food from his hand and shutting the door close.

 

//

 

She remembers to text the escort later that day when she was about to take a bite from her sixth slice of Hawaiian pizza.

 **Clarke (10:24pm):** hi.

 **Clarke (10:27pm):** I’m clarke um. your future client?

She receives a phone call a few moments later, Clarke tries very hard to not sound panicked.

“ _Hello, is this Clarke Griffin?_ ” comes from the other line. She didn’t know what to expect from her escort, but their voice is either undeniably attractive, or it’s just the effect of locking herself in her house for a week and not hearing from anyone else besides few of her concerned friends.

“Yeah, um.” Clarke swallows, “Are you the um, escort?”

She thinks she hears a chuckle before the response. “ _Yes, ma’am._ ”

 

//

 

 **Clarke (10:36pm):** the coordinates to my house xxx-xxxx

 _ **Clarke (10:37pm):**_ I work as a nurse at the city hospital. heres the landline number so you can check im not police xxx-xxxx

 **Clarke (10:39pm):** pls dont tell them youre an escort my moms going to kill me

 **Clarke (10:39pm):** I dont mean theres something wrong with being an escort sorry

 **Clarke (10:39pm):** shes my boss too and if she finds out why im skipping my shifts im dead

_**Escort (10:41pm):** I just called the hospital to confirm you work there. I’m sorry about this, we have to be extra cautious._

**Clarke (10:45pm):** no it’s totally fine safety first right?

_**Escort (10:45pm):** Right._

_**Escort (10:47pm):** I asked them if someone named Clarke Griffin happens to work there, they told me there is and that she hadn’t been seen in the hospital for a week now._

_**Escort (10:47pm):** I hope they do not think you are dead or kidnapped or something._

 

//

 

Clarke wakes up with a groan when she hears her phone roar her out of sleep. She sits up, swiftly turning her alarm off and tries not falling back to bed. She has gym plans today and she’s not going to ruin it because she’s a Grown Ass Woman. Octavia’s probably going to be there and Clarke’s going to get grilled for finally getting out of her house for the first time since she’d been single and her friend would probably try to hook her up with everyone inside the establishment and Clarke is going to hate every second of it but is going to be thankful of her wonderful friend at the same time.

(And when Octavia asks what’s gotten in her head for motivation to work out, she’d have to lie and say she’s Being A Grown Ass Woman and not because she is having an escort at her house later this day and she wants to look toned and also that she is lowkey very excited about it.)

She checks her phone, there isn’t a new text from her escort. Clarke feels bad for wondering if she’s going to get charged extra for texting her. She doesn’t have any money problems and she’s financially stable for rest of her life with too much paper bills left for her to spend so she’ll be fine with whatever rate the escort asks her for (she refrains from thinking about how a part of that came from her father’s insurance).

Clarke doesn’t know the escort’s name and she had been too afraid she would say something disrespectful to her so she didn’t ask. But she had a lovely voice over the phone and an excessively polite way of messaging.

She’s almost sure the escort’s amazing in bed.

 

//

 

Lexa is gathering her books after the last period of her morning classes when she glances at her phone and realizes Anya left her some messages.

_**Anya (12:06):** Costia is going to start throwing things everywhere if you don’t get back home soon._

_**Anya (12:07):** Seriously._

_**Anya (12:07):** I know you’re in class right now but she threatened to fight me if I don’t text you to hurry up and come see her._

_**Anya (12:08):** I don’t understand why you call her an angel, she acts like a fucking devil sometimes._

**Lexa (12:47):** Yeah. A really adorable one, unfortunately.

 **Lexa (12:47):** Tell her I’ll be there in 10.

The smile on Lexa’s face is wide when she walks down the hallway and it doesn’t fade when she rides her bicycle. There is a 30-minute distance from her university to the orphanage if you travel by foot but at least she has a bicycle that Indra gave on her sixteenth birthday as a gift but also as a “thank you” for helping her watch over the children through the years. It was a natural thing to do, the orphans are her friends and she’s just like them — abandoned in the streets when she was an infant and utterly oblivious. The orphanage is her only home.

Costia is already waiting in front of the gate when she parks her bike.

“Alexandria!” She doesn’t even get the chance to greet back— Costia dashes, thrashing her body against Lexa and traps her in a tight embrace, lanky, tiny arms capturing her calves for dear life.

Lexa crotches down to level the little girl’s height, “Hey there, Cos.” She says, ruffling Costia’s hair. “Anya said you were looking for me?”

“Yes.” The little girl pouts, “I missed you, Alexandria.”

Lexa wraps her arms around Costia, standing up and carrying her on her chest. “You did not come home last night. Why?”

She did not want to lie, at least not when she could just dodge the question. “Well. I am here now, Cos.” Lexa tells her instead of giving an answer.

“Can we go play in the flower garden like the last time?”

“Your wish is my command, angel.” She says. Costia cheers in excitement, wiggling in Lexa's arms.

Costia came into the orphanage when Lexa was twelve, a baby covered in a thin, white cloth that is barely warm enough to protect her from the slightest sway of the freezing winter breeze on a late December. Lexa knew from Indra that three month old Costia was found left in a cold vacant seat of a city bus crying helplessly six years ago. Costia is her responsibility because she is family, and so is the other 309 children in the facility. They are her people and she would do everything for each and everyone of them (even if it means selling her body to spiritless, excessively rich businessmen just so she can maintain the weekly food budget of the orphanage. She does what she has to do).

Anya is standing along the blue catmints in her work uniform with a distressed look on her face when they found their way to the garden.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Lexa. Thank _God_ , she's with you. I thought she ran away.” She sighs in relief before playfully glaring at the child in Lexa's arms. Costia pokes her tongue out at her in return.

“I was not aware of your avid _religiousness_ , Anya.” Lexa jokes.

The latter shakes her head in defeat as she lets out a laugh that is barely audible. “Whatever. I'll be back at seven.” Anya knocks Costia's forehead once which elicits a giggle from the little girl before scooting pass the two. “Take care of the kids.” She tells Lexa as she gives a nonchalant wave.

Lexa microscopically nods, Anya rushes to the gate and then she's gone.

Anya usually takes care of the children in morning hours together with other older orphans while Lexa attends her classes. When Lexa comes back from the university, she is in charge because Anya would be working in a fast-food restaurant as a waitress in the afternoon and then Lexa heads off to her job at night when Anya returns from her shift.

(Everyone, including Anya and Indra and Costia, thinks she's still working at Quint's shop. However, Lexa can't help but notice the insufficiency of their salaries for the expense of food to feed her people, she also has college fees to pay and the children's personal necessities like clothes to buy. She needed fast money, plenty of money.

And she knew exactly how to earn it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic title from girls' generation - back hug
> 
> chapter title from red velvet - stupid cupid
> 
> talk to me @ cancerianchildren.tumblr.com


	2. i worry that you will break (i can't hug you all i want)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia buys Clarke a lingerie and the blonde gets pinned against her own bedroom door.

When Clarke returns to her penthouse few hours before her encounter with the escort, she's carrying a bottle of champange in one hand and a bag in another.

She tried to zip her mouth from sputtering something about the whole escort affair to Octavia earlier in the gym but her glow of excitement didn't go unnoticed by her friend. Apparently, Clarke's enthusiasm was way too obvious despite the fact that she was exaggeratingly tearful about her ex less than 24 hours ago. Octavia was quick to follow.

“What's with you today? You refrained from talking to anyone else for the past several days and never went out of the house like a teenager on a broody ass phase, now you're lifting 20 pound weights with a shit-eating grin on your face?” Her friend had confronted her, and of course, although Clarke had planned to not spill anything, she ended up spilling everything.

And that's how she was dragged to a department store by Octavia to buy a fancy lingerie that would hug Clarke's curves the right way, a variety of scented candles, and she also got a scolding about how escorts "like to be pampered as much as they like sucking off their customers' bodily fluids". Clarke almost asked how the fuck did she knew about what escorts like but the lecture was rude and uncalled for. If she was an escort, she'd slap Octavia in front of everyone in the mall.

Anyway, Clarke is standing in front of her giant bedroom mirror trying the burning crimson red lingerie and — _damn_ , not that she was born a narcissist or anything, but she thought she was smoking hot.

She was about to light the candles lined up on her nightstand together with the champagne and empty glasses after she covered her lingerie-clad body with a black robe when the doorbell cries out a loud ding that echoes repeatedly in Clarke's head more than it ever did before since she's sure that is it the escort outside her door and she was pretty tensed and excited and horny about meeting the girl she requested.

When she opens the door, Clarke almost drools at the sight before her. She had been thinking about how attractive the escort could possible be. She was thrilled, not coherent enough to imagine something quite specific, but she had a few guesses and it definitely wasn't these deer eyes that drown in an almost vibrant green and melancholic grey color of the escort's orbs, brown hair tied up in a neat bun, timidly pursed lips, a chiseled nose, perfectly sculpted jaw — Clarke draws strangers all the time, but her hands itch to sketch this one in particular. The girl in front of her is an ideal model, too with impeccable posture and symmetrical shoulders. She'd always been attracted to girls, just never dated them. She wonders for a split second why the fuck is she even attracted to men if there are girls who look like _this_.

Clarke had been told by Octavia that she'd have to wear something that allows easy access, but she begs to differ when she realizes that the escort has too many layers, a black shirt in a black blazer, and _goddamn_ — black _leather pants_.

(It is cold outside, but still. She can't wait til she finds out what's underneath of every piece of black clothing.)

This fueled Clarke's hormones even more. She had been thinking about this encounter ever since she got up from her bed and now that she knows that the escort is alluring as fuck, her desire for angry sex just sky-rocketed.

(She's not even angry anymore, she just wants to touch — more importantly, be touched — by this hot stranger who is standing in her door step with a small, shy smile on her face.)

“Miss Griffin.”

Clarke snaps back to earth when the escort waves her hands across her face and god, she has very long and slim and wonderful hands.

“Um, yea — escort?” The girl nods, “Right. Come in.”

Clarke shuts the door behind her with almost trembling fingers when the escort steps inside.

“What did you want to do tonight, Miss Clarke Griffin?” The escort turns to her with a knowing smirk on her face. Her voice was even more attractive in person, she'd have to remind herself not to swoon, at least not in front of the escort.

Her throat dries out, and she almost jumps on the other girl when she reminds herself to stand down. “I—” Clarke couldn't say anything else, she decides to just kept walking.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was leading the escort but neither of them made any form of noise aside from their footsteps and the aggresive thumping of Clarke's heart until they unconsciously arrived at the door of her bedroom.

When Clarke turns to her, the escort's eyebrows were furrowed (she had lovely eyebrows, too) and her head was slightly tilted to one side which kind of made her look like a confused puppy. Or a grumpy cat. Either way, it was adorable.

“Miss Griff—”

She couldn't wait any longer. Clarke throws her all of her dignity (there was barely anything left for her to throw, to be honest) and swallows before telling her escort, “I want to be submissive.”

The escort lips part just a little with a surprised look on her face like she was offended and about to snap when she hears her client. It made Clarke ponder for a while, _Escorts do offer sex, right?_

Clarke was about to apologize when the escort says _okay_ , and proceeds on taking her blazer off and leaving it on the floor before advancing towards the customer, pining Clarke against the wooden door with a loud slam.

The escort starts to suck on the latter's neck with fervor like a starving predator. The attacked girl gasps, then puts her hands on the escort's hips — only to be scolded.

“No touching.” The escort growls. _Fuck_ , Clarke's pussy throbs at the aggresive warning. The escort's mouth moves to lick her jaw which elicits a low giggle from Clarke. She'd always been ticklish.

Blonde tresses get pushed back to the opposite shoulder by the escort's hand while the other tightens the grip on the customer's wrist. The escort's tongue runs against Clarke's collarbone before she unwraps the blonde's robe like a Christmas present she had been waiting to open.

The lingerie takes the escort off guard to say the least, because the brunette breathes out something that sounds a lot like _woah_ , cheeks ablazed, before continuing her business and slips her hand inside Clarke's lacy panties.

“You said you want to be submissive, _Clarke_?” The escort coos against the latter's ear, Clarke could feel the words pierce her skin. Her name sounds like a sin when spoken from this stranger's lips.

Clarke hums in response, she shivers and almost begs when the escort's fingers lightly graze the moist entrance of her core.

“That is not quite the answer I was looking for, Miss Griffin.” She tells Clarke. The blonde almost passes out right there when the escort retrieves her hand from her underwear, leaving Clarke whining at the lost of touch. Clarke's chin gets tilted by her escort's curled index finger. The escort leans in — their lips just millimeters away — she speaks again, “ _Clarke_.” The way her tongue clicks when she says her name makes the client swallow hard like she had a stone in her throat. The blonde leans in to capture the escort's plump and irresistable lips, but the brunette backs away. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Clarke's entire body is raging with arousement accompanied with desperation. She wanted ( _needed_ ) to be touched, she didn't ask for a whole session of teasing when she sent her letter of request yesterday.

“Please,” The escort just raises her brows with an evil grin plastered on her lips. “Fuck me!” Clarke cries out with a high-pitch pleading and that seems to do it for the escort because Clarke feels herself getting lifted up by a pair of strong arms, the door of her room being pushed open and all of a sudden she was on her back lying on her bed underneath the brunette who looks at her with eyes that were _so_ green and _so_ full of lust.

(Clarke's brain manages a coherent thought for a moment; she wonders if this mesmerizing, hot, teasing escort looks at all her clients like this. Maybe it's what makes her good at this job.)

Her thoughts were cut short when she feels a knee between her thighs rubbing against her cunt.

“Fuck.” She groans, can barely mutter something rational when the escort unclasps her bra before taking a nipple in her mouth, lavishing it and rolling the other with her thumb and index finger.

“Now,” The escort starts, “I am not allowed to tell you anything about myself, but because you are really fucking hot and you are so fucking wet for me, I'll at least tell you my name.” Clarke almost gets off at this.

“Lexa.” The escort says before retracting her knee, goes downwards and rips Clarke's panties off with her teeth. “Scream it when you are coming.” Lexa says, her hot breath against her client's core, making Clarke shudder.

When Lexa gives her pussy a first lick — testing the waters, Clarke yelps and tangles her fingers in brunette locks, in which the escort responds with, “Extra charges for hair tugging,” before inserting a finger inside Clarke. (If this was a entirely different setting, she would've asked 'how much', but she's desperate and partly convinced that she would probably die if she doesn't get enough action for her to get off within a few minutes).

Lexa continues pumping, now with two digits — _god, her middle finger is so long,_ Clarke thinks — as she peels her shirt off with her free hand. Clarke fights the urge to run her hands all over the escort's toned abs until Lexa adds another finger into her, hitting her spot, the blonde arches her back, “Yes, fuck, YES.”

Three fingers in, Lexa moves up a bit to nibble again Clarke's erected nipples. Lexa pumps her fingers in rhythm with Clarke's heartbeat (she hopes Lexa couldn't hear), her mouth releases her client's mound to look at her in the eyes.

Clarke's labored breathes reached the escort's face. Lexa's eyes were different compared to what Clarke had seen earlier. They were still _so_ green, but now soft and tender and almost serene. Clarke is taken aback for a moment — for the past several days, everyone looked at her with sympathy and she hated every second of it. This stranger is looking at her like something so fragile, something she wants to take care of. Finn — he used to look at her like this, too. She despises herself for remembering him especially now that she's being fucked by an escort she just hired. God, what is she doing?

“Lexa,”

“You can scratch my back if it hurts, I won't charge you for it.” Lexa whispers quietly with a slight smile like she wasn't driving Clarke insane with her touches (or the lack there of) minutes earlier.

The blonde just nods, grabbing Lexa by the the back of her neck, pulling full lips against her own. Clarke could feel her — Lexa's — lips lightly tremble. She could feel the escort's muscles tense, her fingers paused all of their movements, she was hesistating. It took Lexa a while to kiss back but when she did, there is a careful hand caressing her cheek. The kiss was delicate and sweet like cotton candy.

“Miss Griffin,” Lexa mutters when she pulls back. Clarke misses the way says her name. “You are crying.”

The blonde only realizes it when she gets informed. She feels a wet spot on her face until the escort wipes it for her. Why was she even crying? Is it because she misses Finn? (Definitely not.) Is it because she feels stupid for hiring an escort to forget? (Maybe?) Is it because it's the first time someone had touched her with so much care, so much concern? (Yes?)

When she looks back at Lexa after she shakes her head to clear her mind, the escort already had her shirt back on and is sitting straight up on the foot of the bed, her back facing Clarke like she was bragging her perfect posture.

“Hey.”

“I am sorry, ma'am.” Lexa says, not glancing at the blonde. Clarke cringes at the formality. The escort's voice almost sounds afraid. _Of what?_ “You—You were c-crying I just — I thought. I thought I hur —”

Clarke grabs her blanket, covers her naked body and moves to sit beside the girl, “You didn't hurt me, okay?”

Lexa looks up, “Why were you —”

“I just recalled something, it was stupid.” Clarke reassures her, she sighs. The escort looks so young in the blonde's current point of view. She wants to ask how old the girl was but she figures that would be rude.

All the heat and desperation that took over her body had now dissolved to something she can't quite put a finger on. Something harmless, something that requires less physical aggression and more of gentle caresses from someone who's touch felt like clouds on a cold autumn night.

“I am very sorry I ruined it, I panicked. I never found amusement in violence I —”

“Relax. You didn't hurt me, really.” Clarke felt bad at the girl, whose face is buried in her own palms at the moment. She didn't want to put a deeper thought into it, but this stranger might be a student, maybe a couple of years younger than she is. How hard must her life be to have no other choice but to enter in this kind of industry, especially at such a young age?

“I know it's forbidden for me to touch but,” Clarke moves closer, slowly, she hugs Lexa on her side. Which was awkward considering their positions and how Clarke was begging for release underneath the touch of the escort moments ago.

Lexa's muscles eases in Clarke's embrace, but it was quick because she stood up suddenly, face contorted into something that would probably mean, _“what am I doing?”_

“I am so sorry, Miss Griffin. I wasted your time. You do not have to pay for anything.” Her voice changed within a little amount of time. Now she sounds stoic, emotionless, partly harsh, painfully professional. “I have to go now.”

“Oh.”

“I am terribly sorry about this.”

“Do you have another client after this?” Clarke asks. She felt her stomach churn in discomfort, probably because of the thought of Lexa touching somebody else that isn't her.

“No, ma'am.”

Clarke feels empty, not horny (at least not anymore. This time, she craves a company. Someone to talk to. Someone who listens).

“Can you—” The blonde struggles to find words, “Can you, like, I don't know — _stay_? I don't mean we have sex or anything, I just want someone, like a friend? I'd pay double.” Clarke cringes at the last part, she shouldn't have said that.

Lexa sighs in defeat, “Okay.” And Clarke beams at her.

 

//

 

Lexa wakes up as the big spoon, blonde tresses tickling the skin of her face, arms wrapped around Clarke's sleeping figure. It almost feels normal. Except it's not and this is a client. A beautiful and considerate one. She scolds herself when she remembers what happened the night before. She showed a customer her weakness. She shouldn't have done that.

(Clarke showed her weakness, too. So it should be fair, but it's not.)

The two of them drank champagne — an expensive one, Lexa could tell, last night as Clarke babbles about her cheating ex-boyfriend.

(Clarke also told her about her late father but it was when she was past the tipsy level so maybe Lexa was not supposed to know anything about that.)

She looks for a clock, she sees the one on the night stand beside the empty bottle and unlit candles. _6:28_ , it read. _Fuck_. Her first class starts in two hours.

She did not come home for the third time this week. Costia had probably stayed up late waiting for her again. Anya too, most likely. She hated making them worry, but she had to do this. The orphanage wouldn't survive if she doesn't.

Clarke stirs beside her when she tried sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The blonde blankly stares at her when she opens her left eye, when she opens both, she blinks. Maybe trying to process why the hell was there another girl in her bed. _Adorable_ , Lexa thinks.

Clarke mumbles a quiet _oh_ when she realizes. Lexa tries not to laugh.

“Sorry you stayed, your probably screwed to your boss.”

“Ah, no. It happens all the time.” Lexa realizes the tone of comfort in her voice, she takes it back. “Miss Griffin, I have to go.”

“Oh, yeah, wait. The payment.” Getting up from the bed, Clarke makes a trip to a drawer where she pulls out a checkbook. It only takes a minute before Lexa is handed a sheet of paper. She reads the amount, _holy shit_ , her eyes look like they're going to fall off.

“Miss Griffin, I can't take this much.”

“Yes, you can.”

“But—”

“Lexa.”

Lexa quits arguing. The amount of money Clarke just offered her is enough to rent an apartment for Her and Anya and Costia for a year (Lexa had always dreamed of living together with them. A home for the three of them). She can also buy that toy the little girl could never take her eyes off when they go to the mall to window-shop. _Hundreds of them._

“Thank you, Miss Griffin.” She says with gratitude that she makes sure the other girl feels.

“Call me Clarke. And you're welcome.”

 

//

 

When Lexa walks back to the orphanage to get ready for university — after she drops off the company car she uses to meet her clients back to where it belongs — usually, she thinks about how much longer her contract with the escort agency would last until it expires, but today she thinks about pale skin and smooth locks of golden hair and a particular pair of ocean blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU @ ALL OF YOUR FEEDBACKS. sorry i dont reply i just dont know what to say, but i really really REALLY do appreciate comments. also, i wasnt expecting this much hits and kudos. so, really, THANK YOU. (there was so much feedback thats why i rushed to finished this chap as fast as i can sorry if it was sloppy)
> 
> chapter title from exo - beautiful
> 
> talk to me @ cancerianchildren.tumblr.com


	3. try to enlighten (my darkened heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa finds out Clarke isn't actually a sexting type.

As much as Lexa hates her job, she's glad to be able to constitute her own law for her clients to follow. Being an escort at eighteen is not only demanding, but also malignant in many ways and as much as Lexa doesn't want to admit it to herself, the thought of meeting a new client frightens her to the point of a mild panic attack. Every time her work phone rings, her knees begins to tremble, heartbeat starts to race, fingers fail to stay still as she tries picking up the call to inform her of her latest customer.

The men Lexa meets and provides company and/or sexual pleasure to are different compared to one another. She is grateful for charitable and considerate ones that don't try to coerce her into doing anything that was not part of the deal. One of the Lexa's worst clients are the ones who refuse to use condoms during a session. First things first, she's not even into men and their dangly stuff between their legs. Which makes her hate her job even more.

(Lexa's worst clients are the ones who, when their certain requests get rejected, hit her — sometimes with their hands, feet, sometimes with inanimate things that are available in the venue, like vases or lamps. When she gets off the company car and walks inside the agency badly bruised or excessively bleeding or her body decorated with glass shards, she performs a chant in her head to convince herself about how this job is beneficial to everyone she loves and cares about, to Costia and Anya and the kids in the orphanage and to her dreams of becoming a lawyer and getting a hand shake from United Nations Secretary General Ban Ki Moon. Sometimes she forgets this and breaks down in the streets, sitting at the curb with shaking hands clutching tightly on her chest, trying to stop and muffle her own sobs through the sharp, chilly wind of the night.)

Her rules for her clients include; first and foremost, use protection, then no kissing on the lips, no touching, no asking her to pretend to be a fake girlfriend, no threesomes or orgies (unless requested prior the meeting day and gets an approval although there's every little chance) etc. And of course, Lexa being Lexa, she made rules for her to follow, too; no opening up to clients no matter how much empathy she feels towards them and don't get emotionally attached to a customer.

She recalls how she let her most recent client — Miss Clarke Griffin — break half of those rules in one night (her Rules For Clients, not her Rules For Myself). There was something about Clarke that makes Lexa ~~trust her~~ , no, that's too soon. There was something about Clarke that made Lexa comfortable around her. Maybe it's because Clarke is her first female patron in her sixteen months of being an escort. And attractive, too. Female patrons are very rare, almost non-existent. Well, until last night.

Lexa snaps out of her thoughts when the last bell of morning classes rings. She hates it when she dozes off in the middle of a discussion, she has a scholarship to maintain after all.

There was a scheduled appointment for her today in the afternoon with a fairly young real estate agent. He was a regular.

She gets out of the class before she checks her phone.

_**Griffin, Clarke (10:48):** did you get back home safe?_

_**Griffin, Clarke (11:27):** sorry am i allowed to text you?_

_**Griffin, Clarke (12:50):** have you eaten lunch yet?_

Lexa had an innumerable amount of clingy clients, but this is the first one that makes her smile. She decides to play along.

 **Lexa (1:03):** I have not eaten yet.

 **Lexa (1:05):** Miss Griffin, you are allowed to communicate with me through what ever ways you prefer. However, it does take some time from my day so I'd have to charge you for it.

She receives an incoming call a few moments later.

“ _If I would have to pay talking to you, I might as well hear your voice.”_ Clarke tells her from the other line. Lexa can hear hustling footsteps, wheels, someone calling for a doctor in the background. Clarke is probably working at the moment.

“Is that the case, Miss Griffin?” She responds, “I thought you were the sexting type, but I guess you are full of surprises.”

There is a pause on the other line, Lexa almost hangs up because that what she always does with the clingy ones, but Clarke speaks again before she can even push a button.

“ _Actually, I prefer phone sex.”_ Clarke says, “ _But not now because I'm just taking a break from my shift, not to mention I haven't worked in days and I don't want my patients hearing me come as I touch myself, and oh god my mom. She'll kill me if she caught me red handed — well, cum's white so technically, white-handed —_ ”

Lexa laughs at this, like really laughs to the point where other students who were busy with their own locker business turn their heads to see who the fuck would be so happy in the middle of an exam week.

“ _Hey, Lexa?_ ”

“Yeah, Miss Griffin?”

“ _Thank you for last night._ ”

Lexa doesn't respond until she opens her locker, leaves her books in place and closes it quietly with a small smile on her face, her work phone sitting in between her ear and shoulder. “For almost making you come or for drinking expensive champagne with you while I listen to a two-hour long commentary of Horrible Things About My Ex Boyfriend?”

Clarke playfully scoffs, “ _For being a friend_.”

 _We're friends now?_ Lexa thinks. “How many friends have you slept with as of now?”

It's Clarke's turn to laugh, “ _Just one._ ”

 

-

 

“I have to go now.” Lexa tells her client. She had been standing beside her bicycle talking to Clarke for a few minutes now. Her appointment is not until 3pm but she still have to get ready and dress up at the agency and call Anya, tell her she'd be at the library studying and ask her to tell Cassie, a fellow orphan, to take care of the kids while they're both gone. (Lying was one of her bigger problems when she first started as a sex worker. Especially to Anya because that woman knows everything. Lexa's getting better at it, though. Or Maybe Anya just trusts her too much.)

“ _Aw, why?_ ” Lexa could imagine Clarke pouting for some reason.

“I will be seeing a client soon.”

“ _Oh._ ” Clarke pauses, “ _What time will um — what time will it be over?_ ”

“Well, he's a regular. It usually lasts about two to three hours.” Lexa says nonchalantly.

Clarke gasps, “ _THAT long?_ ”

“I was with you for ten hours, and you gave me a 24-hour worth pay check, Miss Gri—Clarke,”

“ _We slept away most of that ten hours, anyway. I think I want a refund.”_

“Are you saying that my services are not worth your money, Clarke?”

“ _Oh, no, no._ ” The client frantically tells Lexa. “ _What I'm saying is that you owe me_.”

“I'm not going to return your check if that's what you want.” Lexa sputters, she was pissed now. She gets on her bike, phone still in hand, handle on the other, bag hanging on her shoulder.

“ _Can I see you later? At my house.”_

“What?” Lexa almost loses her balance. She's few inches away from slamming into an electric post. Car horns starts crying out when she crosses the street.

“ _Do I have to write ano—Lexa? Where are you?_ ”

“Clarke, I have to go.” She tells her client before hanging up. She can't afford an accident, she has so much responsibilities to take care of.

 

-

 

Walking back to the company car with legs still slightly sore, she counts the paper bills in her hand, payed by Mr. Peterson — $360 — if added to her savings which includes a few thousand bucks so far, there would only be two sessions left for her to save up enough money for the renovation of the orphanage (she'd also want to replace some squeaky beds and nasty toilet bowls in addition to Costia's request to fence the garden.) And now thanks to the appointment with Miss Clarke Griffin and her generosity, she'd have extra.

Lexa starts the engine, mind wandering back to Clarke's invitation. _Can I see you later? At my house._ It's not a friendly one, sure, but it's something. It's work, she'd get paid for providing company to a customer. That's what Clarke is — _a client_ — someone who hands her money in exchange for her services, and she'd seen this client cry, (a lot of her other patrons talk about their personal problems to her and sometimes breakdown,) but this client had seen her afraid and agitated and weak. Lexa panics whenever she thinks she hurts somebody. It reminds her of something from way back when she was young, Lexa grips the steering wheel until her knuckles go white when she remembered. She doesn't want history repeating itself. Not anytime soon.

She changes the client's contact name on her phone before texting her.

 **Lexa (5:34):** I am free now.

 **Lexa (5:35):** Does your offer still stand?

Lexa snatches her non-work clothes from the back of the car as she waits for a response.

_**Clarke (5:42):** very well and yes it does_

_**Clarke (5:47):** wait dont come yet i look like trash_

She pulls over at a gasoline stand and sends a reply before heading to the comfort room to change her clothes.

 **Lexa (6:06):** I am three minutes away.

 **Lexa (6:07):** And I am sure you do not look like trash even if you stand in the middle of the city dump.

When she gets back to the car, there is a text waiting for her.

_**Clarke (6:07):** just say im pretty_

**Lexa (6:15):** Only if you use proper typing etiquettes.

_**Clarke (6:16):** says by someone who completely ignores the existence of contractions_

_**Clarke (6:16):** you said you were 3 mins away?_

**Lexa (6:16):** At the gasoline stand. Do you still look like trash?

_**Clarke (6:17):** nah. im good im hot im fresh im fly_

 

//

 

“Do you want to be dominant now?” was the first thing that Clarke hears from the escort when she swings the door open.

“No.” She tries to hide the growing shade of red on her cheeks as she stares at Lexa's pair of Keds in her hands instead of the escort's growing smirk.

“Why did you want to see me?”

When Clarke looks up, Lexa's brows are furrowed and her head is tilted. She's looks exactly the same as last night with hair still gathered up in a neat bun, minus the blazer and leather pants. Lexa looks like a typical college student without a bag and a twink boyfriend following her behind everywhere she goes.

Lexa is wearing 2-inch heels so Clarke has to stand on her toes when she comes up to kiss her on the lips. It isn't wild — the kiss — and it didn't even last a second before Clarke steps back with a small smile, which is turned upside down when she sees the dread expression on Lexa's face.

“Sorry, I—”

“No, it's fine, it's fine, I just—” Lexa lets out a deep sigh like she had been holding her breath the whole time. “Is that why you wanted to see me?”

Clarke laughs, “I told you, you owe me—”

“And I told you I'm not going to return your check, Miss Griffin.”

Lexa turns around to leave, her face fuming with rage and fingers almost in contact with the knob on the door but Clarke grasps her wrist. “No, wait. I'm sorry, that's not what I meant.”

The escort refuses to look at her. “What did you mean, then?”

 

-

 

Lexa doesn't watch television, they don't have one in the orphanage (she notes that in her head so she can remember adding it to her long, long list of Things To Buy For The Orphanage), and she thinks it's counterproductive and a huge waste of time. She doesn't sit on a couch for more than five minutes, either. (However, they do have a couch in the orphanage.) And she despises junk food. If she's going to be the breadwinner of a family with more than three hundred children to feed, she would not sacrifice her health with food soaked into oil and a shit load of salt. She needs all the years she can get to live and support the kids. Fast food shortens your life expectancy, especially burgers. God, if Lexa could burn all the burgers in the world, she would.

So when Clarke calls for fast food delivery while she slouches on her leather couch and skims through the channels of her very large flatscreen, Lexa fights the urge to nag at the blonde about how unhealthy this night is going to be as she stands in the middle of the living room. Clarke is her client, Lexa doesn't get paid to babysit her.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” The blonde asks, looking up from the TV.

“Yeah, I'm good here.”

“Sorry, is this, like,” Clarke uses her hand to make exaggerated circling gestures, “new to you?”

“Not really.” Lexa balances her weight in one leg, hand rubbing her arm in slight shame, “But I usually get paid for sex. So clients who ask to have a ‘Ladies' Night Out’ are very rare. You're the first, actually.”

Clarke seems to catch Lexa's discomfort after that, fortunately. “Sorry—”

“Don't apologize.”

“My friends are sick of me, I think. Because I talk about that fuck of a cheater all the time and I just want to hang out with someone after everything. I know they're willing to take me out to eat or something, but I've literally done nothing this week so I don't think I deserve it.”

“Clarke,” Lexa walks towards the blonde who has her head hung low. “You got cheated on. It's okay to need space.”

The escort sits beside Clarke, _this couch is very comfortable in the ass, wow,_ not knowing what to do, she straightens her spine and waits for the other girl to speak up. There are drops of sweat beginning to trickle down her face despite the air conditioning.

“Do you want to like, fuck or something. Because that's your job and you probably think this is boring and—”

Lexa cuts Clarke off yet again, “I'd rather not, actually.” She sighs. “My legs are still sort of sore so.”

Clarke just looks at her with wide eyes, this is exactly why Lexa is so afraid of being comfortable. She'd end up saying stuff she had been locking up in her chest for a very long time.

“I should not have said that, I apologize.” Lexa says when she realizes Clarke is just going to stare at her like she just admitted in doing a morbid crime.

“Um, I know I shouldn't ask this but like, does it hurt?”

Lexa never talks about her job with anyone unless it's a co-escort. She heard their stories, too. Mikaela's one-time-client with a very strange kind of foot fetish, Corrie's regular customer who likes to give her massages, or the businessman who proposed to Annie an hour after their session started. There were violent stories, of course, but they don't need to be brought up from the back of Lexa's mind.

Lexa knows she shouldn't say anything to a patron, but she also knows that Clarke had broken too much of her rules in a short span of two days. And she had let her. _What is it with you?_ Lexa realizes then that she was wrong when she thought Clarke was like every other client she had. No one else had the color of the sun on their hair. No one else had the ocean on their eyes, the calm waves, high tides, the sadness.

Clarke is different.

“What? Penises?” Lexa lets her back relax on the couch “Sometimes.”

 

//

 

It's in the first week of winter when Indra gets suspicious. When the head of the orphanage asks Lexa where she got the money from to buy the beds and fancy tiles and wooden fences and shiny toilet bowls, the money to pay the workers Lexa hired to do the renovation, the escort couldn't almost find a lie believable enough to tell her.

“It's from my savings.”

“You work in a repair shop for five hours with a minimum wage rate.” Indra reminds her.

“I tutor some of my rich classmates on my spare time and they pay me for it.” Lexa shakes her head at how stupid that sounded but it's not far from the truth. Because she does tutor her classmates. But for free.

“Since when?”

“Since — I don't know—”

Indra squints her eyes at her because Lexa never doesn't know anything, it's odd. And Indra obviously doesn't believe her but there is a delivery calling out for them from the front gate, probably the boxes of warm, thick blankets for the children and it gets Indra's attention for a while and doesn't question Lexa any longer.

 

-

 

The Night Of Oily Pizzas And Comfy Leather Couches with Clarke was almost a month ago when the cold, dry breeze of the autumn air was still harsh against her skin. Clarke haven't contacted her since then and honestly speaking, the client never once crossed Lexa's mind until this morning when her work phone buzzes in the middle of Ms. Widmer's lecture about existentialism.

_**Clarke (9:34):** have any clients today?_

**Lexa (9:35):** I have three clients in the evening.

_**Clarke (9:37):** THREE???_

_**Clarke (9:37):** isnt that a bit too much??????_

**Lexa (9:49):** It's average.

_**Clarke (9:49):** did anyone ever told you your replies take too long_

**Lexa (9:51):** I'm in class.

The message had already been sent when Lexa remembers who's she's talking to and what she just texted her. _Shit._ Now Clarke knows something about her personal life.

 

-

 

Lexa is picking flowers with Costia in the newly-fenced garden when Clarke replies.

_**Clarke (2:47):** are you still in class?_

“Alexandria!” Costia calls her out, voice filled with enthusiasm. Lexa looks up from her phone to see the little child pointing on the Hellebores on the ground with her tiny mitten-clad finger. “Look, Alexandria, it's the same color as your eyes!” There is a warm and wide smile on Costia's pink from cold face and she can't help but reciprocate it.

 **Lexa (2:49):** What do you want?

_**Clarke (2:49):** can i see you?_

_**Clarke (2:49):** not at my house tho_

Lexa looks back to the kid — she doesn't want to just leave her here.

 **Lexa (2:50):** Where?

 **Lexa (2:50):** And what are we going to do?

_**Clarke (2:50):** i dont know like hang out? watch movies?_

**Lexa (2:51):** Why?

_**Clarke (2:52):** its my day off today im bored_

**Lexa (2:53):** Clarke, you do know I am a sex worker and your escort, right? Not your girlfriend for hire.

_**Clarke (2:54):** yes lexa i know i know_

_**Clarke (2:58):** lets meet @ the movie house in 30?_

**Lexa (3:00):** Am I going to have to finger you while Avengers plays on the wide screen?

_**Clarke (3:00):** LEXA!!!!!!1!!!!_

**Lexa (3:01):** Is that you screaming my name while cumming at the back of the cinema?

_**Clarke (3:01):** the.fuck._

_**Clarke (3:01):** stop this........................ its not funny........._

_**Clarke (3:03):** no really. i just want to watch a movie with you. i dont want to tire you much now that i know you have 3 clients afterwards_

 

//

 

Clarke has been waiting in front of the movie house for 4 minutes when she spots Raven walking on the other side of the road. She calls her out, and even though there are a lot of cars running across them, Raven heard her and rapidly crosses the street without getting hit by a bumper.

“Hey,” Raven chirps.

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm meeting Bell at the usual cafe.”

“Did you tell mom?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here anyway?”

“I'm meeting a —” Clarke realizes what she's about to say, _I shouldn't tell her._ “I'm waiting for a — a friend.”

“Really? Who?”

Raven knows all of her friends, they're sisters after all, so she can't consider lying. However, she remembers Octavia would probably be free today so she could use her name — but before she can even say anything, Clarke spots a figure just behind Raven. It was Lexa — not the Escort Lexa — but probably the normal student Lexa in skinny jeans, boots, and a coat who is kneeling in front of a little girl in an oversized pink jacket.

“Alexandria?” Raven, who followed the direction of Clarke's gaze calls out. Lexa and the little girl move their heads up to the origin of the sound. It's the kid who speaks first, seems very excited and surprised.

“Raven!” The little girl runs towards them, Raven crotches down to level her. “How is it going, Cos?”

Clarke has seen Raven smile so wide many times, but the smile her sister is giving to the little girl — then to Alexandria — is as endearing as the smiles Raven gives her and her mom, if not more.

Lexa is already hugging Raven before Clarke even knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was boring I Know. ill try to write a better one next time. Tell me what you think! Thanks for the feedback as always!
> 
> ask me something or whatever @ cancerianchildren.tumblr.com (or @seoduction on twitter although my internet connection is very shitty at the moment).
> 
> chapter title from girls' generation - talk talk


	4. a secret that no one knows (a secret only we want to keep)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is confused about how she should call Lexa/her escort/Alexandria/mother of a hundred children; Lexa's encounter with Raven makes her reminisce the lovely memories of old times, it also reminds her of The Thing she accidentally did a while back.

_They know each other._

Clarke thinks she might need all the time in the world to process the new information. Her sister — Raven — knows/is acquainted with Clarke's very attractive secret escort that she already told Octavia about (not about the green eyes, or the soft trembling lips part, just the minor details). Before she can even think about how to deal with all of this, Raven wraps her arm around her shoulder saying, “Alexandria, remember Mrs. Griffin, the hot doctor who adopted me?”

“Not rea—”

“This is her very problematic crap of a daughter — Clarke.” Clarke detaches herself from Raven's arm, playfully rolling her eyes at her sister's direction, but doesn't miss the way ~~her escort~~ ~~Lexa~~ Alexandria keeps on rapidly blinking, probably trying to let the information sink in, too. “Kidding. She's working now and has her own house and all things fancy. Although she just had her teen emo phase recently—”

“Raven!” The blonde playfully punches her. “Octavia already compared me to a teenager on a broody ass phase, not you too.”

“Isn't she hot, Alexandria? I mean, Mrs. Griffin is hotter but —”

Clarke stops listening to Raven's hot mom jokes (at least Clarke hopes she's joking) and turns to Alexandria's direction and sees the girl offering her hand, her face showing no sign of ever meeting Clarke before. _Are all escorts good at acting or is it just mine?_

“Clarke.” The brunette says, voice cold and hinting no emotion but she beams the blonde a tight smile. The way Clarke's name rolls off her tongue is different compared to their first meeting, it's threatening, it's intimidating, it's _do not say anything to her_. “I'm glad to be finally meeting someone from Raven's new family.” Clarke shakes her hand and it's colder than she remembers.

Raven picks up the little girl from the ground, “This little punk is Costia. She's even more problematic than you are.”

-

Clarke had no intention of eavesdropping, really, but they have been talking all through out the movie — they decided to watch Spongebob, much to Costia's delight — and Clarke could hear everything that comes out of Raven's mouth and there is something enchanting in Alexandria's laugh whenever her sister tells her a story about a Drunk Ass Clarke that is hard to miss.

She finds out more about Alexandria.

Clarke finds out she's a PoliSci major and that she lives in the same orphanage where Abby adopted Raven two years ago (what she doesn't find out is how Alexandria got there in the first place, but that can wait for now). She also hears that Anya — whoever that may be — is turning 20 soon and that she has to move out of the orphanage when it happens. Alexandria tells Raven that Costia and herself are planning to move out with Anya. Raven asks if they already have a place to stay, and the other girl says they do not and she's still in search but the money is not a problem because she's sure she has enough savings.

And that's where it really hits Clarke.

"It" being that the escort she's being receiving services from is a student and an orphan and is probably the saving grace of hundreds of other children, and Clarke's chest wrenches for her.

If she's going to carry this escort's secret with her, she's going to carry it with a heart.

-

It gets harder when they get to Clarke's penthouse (it's her own idea, but still) because Raven decided to tell every Embarrassing Clarke Story she could think of and Alexandria is cackling like there's no tomorrow, it's a wonderful sound and it's hard to look away.

(Alexandria snorts in the middle of Raven's story and her beautiful green eyes widen at the dreadful realization. The brunette covers her mouth like she just swore like a sailor in front of a child. Clarke finds out something new about Alexandria yet again; she never snorts. And when she does, she going to try to deny it until her dying breath.)

-

Raven is cuddling Costia when Alexandria stands from her seat on the couch, eyes directly staring at Clarke's — the same couch they had spent one night together about a month ago.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” she exclaims. “Clarke, can you—” Alexandria asks, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder.

The blonde ponders for a while why would she ask for help to go to the bathroom when she's been here befo— _Oh_.

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” Clarke says, pacing faster than the brunette. As soon as they reached their destination and out of Raven's sight, Alexandria grabs her wrist and although the action was aggressive, the grip on Clarke is light and gentle. Clarke acknowledges how much the brunette's hand has been sweating this whole time.

Alexandria drags the both of them inside and locks the door, the harsh click of the metallic knob makes the jitter in Clarke's stomach worse than it already was before. The way the latter is towering over her while Clarke's back is leaning against the door reminds the blonde of their first meeting.

“Do not tell anything to Raven.” Alexandria growls at her, but it sounds more like a plea than a command. Clarke tries not to concentrate on the way the brunette's mouth move, or the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips in obvious anxiety.

“I won't.” Clarke says, eyes darting to the other girl's — which now more resembles the color of clouds on a stormy day rather than the usual forest green. She notes the fearful visage in Alexandria's face, but it's gone the moment Clarke tells her; “I won't say a word to Raven, I promise.”

The hand on her wrist retracts itself and Clarke almost admits to herself that she misses the warmth.

Alexandria huffs a sigh of relief, “You have to understand, Clarke. If Raven finds out she'd—”

“She's my little sister, she's not going to hate you.”

“I've known her my whole life, trust me, I know she's not going to hate me.”

Clarke beams, “She's going to love you even more, if anything.” Alexandria tries to scoff at that but Clarke is sure she saw a hint of a growing smile in her lips (not that she's been staring at Alexandria's lips of course). “Raven will probably try to convince my mom to adopt you too so you can drop the job.”

“That's exactly why I don't want her or anyone I care about to find out.”

“You want to be an escort forever?”

“No, God, no— I just —the orphanage. The kids. They need this. We wouldn't survive if it wasn't for this job.”

“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving,” Clarke tells her, “Don't we deserve better than that?”

Alexandria's lips are slightly parted and she looks like she's seeking something in Clarke's face the way she's looking at the blonde. “Maybe we do.” The brunette mutters, barely audible, and Clarke thinks Alexandria might kiss her right there by how hard she's gazing at her lips.

Alexandria doesn't.

She doesn't kiss her, but she takes Clarke's hand in hers and says, “Thank you.”

-

It's when Raven receives a phone call from Bellamy, asking her why she stood him up, that Clarke remembers about Lexa's (Clarke thinks it's fine to call her that now, even just in her head) clients for the night. She hates to think about it but she can't help herself.

She shoots over to the brunette and the whispers, “What time is your first appointment?”

Lexa whispers back, “Soon.” And Clarke shivers when Lexa's lips ghostly brushes against her neck.

“You should get going.”

Lexa sighs, eyes wandering back to the little girl sitting on the carpet who's forehead is littered with lines that formed in concentration with what she was working on. “But Costia—”

“It doesn't look like she's planning on putting those colored pencils anytime soon.” Clarke says. “Raven knows where the orphanage is. We'll just drop her off later.”

Lexa gives Clarke a look of disbelief, “You would do that?” Clarke's breath hitches at the unfamiliar tone (of hope?) swirling in Lexa's voice.

“Yeah.”

Clarke doesn't want to send Lexa to her job, she'd keep her if possible, but Lexa had been itching in her seat since she heard the word "work". Clarke instantly sees right through her.

“Clarke,” Lexa says and she looks at the blonde like she's her savior. Clarke thinks she might get used to it. “I— thank you.”

“You already said that.”

“I'm saying it again,” Lexa says with a grin. “Thank you.”

And then Raven must've caught up because she's teasing.

“You hittin' on my big sister, Alexandria?” Raven says, “Didn't know you were into blondes.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lexa says, waving Raven off. _But she didn't deny it,_ Clarke thinks, cheeks beginning to color, “What did your boyfriend say?”

“First of all, he's not my boyfriend.” Raven ticks off her index finger and then the middle, “And second, if you'd hit on Clarke, I have to warn you. She's kind of still an emotional disaster after her recent break up—”

“Raven, you know I can hear everything, right?”

“—a friend told me she dealt with it like a Grown Ass Woman. Although it involved a several hundred dollars and a lingerie.”

Lexa froze in place.

_Fucking Octavia, I'm going to kill her._

-

When they drop Costia off the orphanage, there is a swarm of children rushing to greet Raven, telling her how much she's been missed by everyone.

(Clarke hears about the recent renovation of the facility. The older kids were wondering about how the orphanage got their hands on a fund for that, but Clarke thinks she might know who's exactly behind everything.)

It took them an hour of catching up before Clarke drives Raven to her mother's house.

“That's a lot of kids.” Clarke says as she starts the engine, “They're adorable.”

“Yeah, we grew to love everyone that gets admitted in there.”

“How did it feel like? You know, growing up with them.”

Raven smiles, facing the road. Clarke thinks her sister looks the most serene when they talk about her old home.

“It felt like family.”

She doesn't get out if the car to greet Abby because she knows she's probably still in the hospital.

-

Clarke sends ~~Lexa her esco~~ Alexandria a text before she prepares a proper meal for dinner. She tries not think about the brunette is most likely with someone else at the moment.

 **Clarke (8:05pm):** costia (is that how you spell it?) arrived @ the orphanage in one piece :)

 **Clarke (8:10pm):** i have a question

 **Clarke (8:10pm):** it's stupid but still

 **Clarke (8:11pm):** everyone calls you alexandria but can i still call you lexa

 **Clarke (8:11pm):** ?

-

Clarke stares apathetically at the dining table. She was able to cook a nice and proper meal.

For one.

Just _one_.

She sets aside the empty feeling in her chest — that definitely wasn't caused by hunger — and starts eating quietly.

//

_Gustus downs the last drop of his whiskey, throws the bottle across the living room and sends it crashing against the varnished door. The sound of shattering glass reaches Lexa's ears in the closet where she's hiding herself in._

_“Clean this up,” Gustus yells, voice drowning in the sea of alcohol._

_Lexa could hear heavy footsteps, she prepares herself to get hit like he always does ever since he adopted her, but it doesn't come._

_Instead, she hears the door slam shut and then nothing else. She decided to get out of the closet, she's had enough of this. Lexa picks up the landlines phone and dials a familiar number,_

_“Hello?” Lexa recognizes the voice almost immediately._

_“Raven, you have to help me.”_

_“Wha— Lexa, is that you?”_

_“Raven, please.” Lexa quivers as she begs, “I'm dying in here.”_

_“What happened? Where are you?”_

_Lexa recites the address, “I'll explain later, just get me out of here.”_

_Raven calls her name out when she arrives at the door minutes later._

_When Lexa opens it, she sees Raven's worried eyes, she also sees Gustus parking his motorcycle in the driveway several feet away from them._

_“He's here, we need to hide.” So they do, or at least they try to. Because Gustus is already making his way inside the house._

_Lexa is too agitated and afraid to realize what was happening but then she sees Gustus slam a wooden chair onto Raven's back. She watches in horror as her friend falls unconscious on the floor and then suddenly there's blood everywhere._

_Everything happens so fast after that._

_She doesn't remember how she got a knife in her possession, but she thinks it's humanly impossible to forget the feeling of thrusting a blade into Gustus' chest and the way he swirms on the floor and the way he takes his final breath as blood,_ god, so much blood _begins to flow out of his heavily bearded mouth._

“—Lexa. Lexa, wake up — hey wake up.”

The brunette sits up faster than lighting, covered in sweat and chest heaving like she just ran a thousand miles. She falls back to the bed again, catching her breath.

“You okay there?” She hears Anya ask from the upper part of their double decker.

“Yeah.” Lexa breathes out.

“Go back to sleep, it's just a dream.”

 _No_ , Lexa thinks. _It's not just a dream_.

-

Lexa is riding her bicycle and someone is hugging her from the back, riding it with her.

When they reach Annie's address, the other girl gets off the bike first.

“Don't you wanna come in?” Annie asks.

“I've got some things to do,” Lexa reasons. “Sorry.”

She watches as Annie's face fall so hard she might as well pick it up for her.

“Next time, though.” Lexa smiles at the redhead.

“Okay.” Lexa was about to go when Annie says, “Wait. I forgot something,” Lexa looks back at her quizzically. Annie is a nice girl, she's always there for Lexa when she has some serious client problems. Because being an escort herself, Annie understands. That's why when the redhead leans in for a kiss, Lexa doesn't make an effort to back away.

“Goodnight, Lex.” Annie says with a wide smile when she pulls away. _She is really pretty._

“You too, Annie.”

And as Lexa pedals down the dark road, she can't help but compare Annie's hazel eyes to blue ones that reminds of the ocean and she thinks about her lips, not Annie's lipstick tainted pair but the pale, soft ones that taste like greasy pizzas and overly expensive red wine.

-

Lexa just finished locking her bicycle in place when her work phone rings. It's Clarke — what would she want from her at 2am?

“ _Hello?_ ” comes from the other line and it's definitely not Clarke. It's a guy.

“Who is this?”

“ _I —um, I'm a barista and um your friend passed out and she has you on speed dial—_ ” She stops listening. Lexa has so many questions she needs some answers to. _Clarke passed out on a coffee shop? Why would she pass out on a coffee shop? Who passes out in a coffee shop anyway? Why does she have my number on speed dial?_

“Alright, I'm picking her up. Where is she?”

-

When Lexa arrives at the coffee shop, she sees Clarke slouched on a chair with her eyes closed. She's still in green scrubs and she looks exhausted.

A guy, probably the barista on the phone earlier, gestures over the blonde.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispers to her ear when she gets inside. “Clarke, let's go.”

“Huh— Lexa?” Clarke groggily says, “I mean Alexandria— what are you doing here?”

Lexa sighs, “I'm picking you up, come on. I'll take you home.”

Clarke finally stands up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “I don't have my car with me right now.”

“I will call a cab for you.”

“I don't think I have any money with me.”

“Well, I have a bicycle. It's really late, let's go home.”

-

To say that Lexa can't concentrate on the road is an understatement. Maybe it's because of the cold. She gave her jacket to Clarke — who is now clutching tightly on Lexa's stomach to refrain herself from falling.

Clarke's chin is on Lexa's shoulder, every exhale tickling the brunette's ear. It's quiet for a while aside from the few cars running and the wild beating of Lexa's heart (why is it even beating this fast anyway?) until Clarke begins to speak. “You... have been ignoring me, my texts I mean.”

“I... have been busy.”

“Yeah. I, I know but I—” Clarke chuckles nervously, “I missed you.”

“Clarke.”

“Sorry.” Clarke says. Lexa isn't sure but Clarke may have started sniffing her hair. “Your hair is lovely when it isn't tied up.”

“Is it tickling you?”

“No, it's fine. It's nice.” The blonde says, Lexa could feel her smiling smiling against her skin. “Do I have to pay you for this?”

Lexa doesn't say anything for a while and Clarke must've caught up, “Sorry. Again. I shouldn't have ask that. Can I call you Lexa?”

“Everyone I know calls me Lexa. Costia just likes saying Alexandria. Raven, she—” Lexa stops, not sure if she should tell Clarke. _Not yet_ , she decides. “She did something for me a while back and when I asked what she wanted in return, she just said she'd like to call me by my real name until her last breath.”

Clarke hums in response and doesn't say anything else.

“What were you doing in the coffee shop?”

“I don't know, I was so tired so I stopped by to sleep.”

Lexa laughs, “Ridiculous. The barista taught you were drunk so he called me. Why is my number on your phone's speed dial anyway?”

She feels Clarke's grip on her stiffen, “Nothing. Finn used to be on my speed dial but you know, we broke up. I just — you're the closest thing I have to a girlfriend so,”

“We have not even agreed on being friends yet.”

“You've been on my bed, you already saw me naked.”

“Whatever. We're not friends.” Lexa says with a grin as the thumping in her chest grew louder and louder.

Yeah. Definitely _not_ friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been a while.


	5. can't stop thinking about you (this must be what crazy feels like)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where clarke is a horrible sister and lincoln talks about marriage (as he usually does)

 

 

Lexa thinks this is where it starts.

 

 

 

Laying on her side, she watches as Clarke's mouth twitch ever so slightly in her slumber; her eyes closed and her breathing steady. Lexa could see all of her face with this close proximity. There's barely any distance between them that Lexa already started counting the number of Clarke's eyelashes.

 

This is where — Lexa thinks — this is where she starts falling for Clarke.

 

 

 

When the blonde begins to mumble incoherent words in her sleep, Lexa couldn't help but smile. It worries her, how Clarke manages to control her mood without even being aware of it. It worries her because she has other things, more important things, to worry about. She has to worry about the orphanage, the kids, Anya and Costia and Raven, she has to worry about her job, not about her clients but about how she's going to manage to keep going without having the urge to break down and quit. She has to worry about her studies and her grades and her scholarship.

 

 

 

But then here she is; thinking that she is most likely _infatuated_ with a client, god damn it.

 

 

 

Lexa glances at Clarke's serene face for the last time before she stands up and walks towards the work desk in the room. She grabs a pen and a memo pad, and begins to write a note for Clarke until her eye catches something tucked under a mug filled with pencils.

 

It's a sketch. Of Lexa. _Half-naked_. 

 

(She knew Clarke was an artist, and the blonde had shown her some of her magnificent works before, but this particular sketch changes everything.)

 

_Well._

 

 

//

 

 

The first thing Clarke notices when she wakes up is the cold, empty spot beside her. There's always an empty spot beside her since she threw Finn out of her life, but she could swear Lexa was just here last night. On the bed with her, keeping her warm. Now Clarke thinks she's beginning to imagine scenarios in her head and fails to recognize which one is real and which one is a fantasy, still feeling the ghosts of Lexa's touches haunting her skin.

 

It's the loneliness — Clarke thinks — it's the loneliness and the unfamiliar feeling of being alone that makes her crave for Lexa.

 

She hasn't been the happiest in the past months. She's busy in the hospital most of the time, and all of her friends have their own stuff going on. Clarke feels this constant empty feeling in her chest, like someone took a piece of her without permission. A hole in her heart. So maybe having an escort as a temporary patch-up for that hole is not the worst idea in the world. Lexa's a nice company, as far as Clarke is concerned. A great one, actually. She doesn't talk much but it's cute when Lexa starts sputtering random facts in the middle of Clarke's hospital stories (“ _Did you know that they just recently completed the first successful penis transplant?_ ”).

 

Somehow, Clarke almost thinks Lexa can be something else for her, something beyond a bandage to her damaged heart.

 

The second thing she notices is that someone is banging at her door even if there is a button plastered on the wall. Clarke glances at the clock on the nightstand, the only person who would be on her front door, on a weekend, @ 3:17pm is the pizza parlor delivery boy.

 

When she jerks up on her bed, she realizes she's in her pajamas, but she doesn't get the time to try to recall when she had changed her scrubs into sleepwear because Raven is already on her bedroom door with a frantic look on her face.

 

“Clarke,” She starts, “I have a boy problem.”

 

  
_Well_.

 

 

//

 

 

It has been a whole hour of Raven blabbering about Bellamy, the not so subtle hints he's been giving, the feelings he's been making her feel and Clarke couldn't feel anymore corrupted.

 

“I'm gonna get us some coffee because apparently caffeine helps relieve this massive boy-stress I'm going through.” Raven tells her before standing up from the edge of the bed and heads towards the kitchen. Clarke almost tells her how caffeine would actually make it worse but she reckons her sister deserves even just a cup. It's past four in the afternoon and it's way too late for coffee but who cares?

 

She emerges from her bedroom and expects to see her sister preparing the coffee machine but instead Clarke watches as Raven reads in wide eyes something written in what looks like the sketching paper she'd grown to use. She realizes there's a drawing on the opposite side of the paper. _Wait, is that the--_

 

“You're sleeping with Lexa? You're sleeping with _my_ Alexandria?”

 

And Clarke is sure she's seen Raven angry before but the face her sister is making right now is way, way worse.

 

“No, what?” Clarke can barely process anything at the moment. She thinks she might be the one in need of coffee right now.

 

 

 

Raven shakes her head profusely, disappointment evident in her face and starts reading.

 

“‘Clarke, do not overwork yourself. It leads to sleep talking. PS: Nice sketch. PPS: You snore. _Lexa_.’ What the fuck do you expect me to think, that you're having sleepovers or that Lexa was your new nude model?”

 

Clarke wants badly to smile at the note because it's a proof that she was not imagining things, that Lexa was indeed here, but her sister is looking at her with a million questions painted in her face, almost fuming. “Raven, calm down—”

 

 

 

“Calm down?” The brunette thrusts her hands up in the air in exaggerated motion, “Abby and I had been worried as shit about you because you almost never stopped working since you broke up with that bastard Finn and now I'm finding out you're taking one of my orphanage friends and asking her to strip for you—”

 

She knew Raven is a clever girl. But why is she acting like this? “Don't you dare talk about Lexa like that.” She sputters, every syllable swirling in a venomous tone of threat she never once used to address her sister until now.

 

Raven laughs, mockingly. “You fuck her a couple of times and now you think you know everything about her?”

 

“The problem,” Clarke starts, harshly slamming her palms on the dining table, making Raven twitch a bit. “about the youth these days is that they don't know how to listen properly. I didn't sleep with Lexa, period. Why can't you just hear me out?”

 

The brunette scoots closer to the older girl, almost towering over her sister, "What about you then, Clarke? Do you actually, _vehemently_ , listen? No. All you do is sit there and probably think, 'when is this kid ever gonna stop talking about things I don't care about--'"

 

"We both know that's not true--"

 

"We both know you're lying! When was the last time you came home? To see mom? When was the last time you cared about your family?"

 

Whether it's the adrenaline of the argument or her lack of much needed sleep, Clarke can't pinpoint which pushed her to say them, but she'll surely regret the next words she utters.

 

 

 

"Why do you even care in the first place? It's not like we're actually sisters."

 

 

The look of anger in Raven's face morphs into something like surprise, to disappointment, to sadness in a matter of seconds before she rushes out of  the kitchen, then out of the house after shouting a single, straight forward _fuck you, Clarke_ , and she's gone. Clarke doesn't even get to run after her sister, too shocked by her own words.

 

//

 

Lincoln had been one of Lexa's first regular patrons, one of the most generous and considerate too. Sometimes there's not even sex involved in their appointments. They just hang out and drink wine together until sex is completely out of question because they're too familiar with each other. They might as well be siblings. Lexa also happens to be the one Lincoln calls when he has personal dilemmas. So when she sees a message from him asking her if she can come over and talk about the 'smoking hot woman on the gym' while she was in a diner with Costia for fries and milkshakes (her payment for not coming home last night, again), she agrees, but not before giving him a brief lecture.

 

  
**Lexa (4:28)** : Since when did you learn to objectify women, Lincoln Adams? I thought I raised you better than that.

 

  
**Lexa (4:28)** : I'm coming.

 

_**Lincoln (4:29)** : god lex. i sent that text 6 in the morning where were you?_

 

  
**Lexa (4:30)** : With a client.

 

_**Lincoln (4:30)** : im gonna guess who and youre buying me pizza if i got it right._

 

  
**Lexa (4:31)** : That's not fair.

 

_**Lincoln (4:31)** : it's the blonde one isnt it???_

 

_**Lincoln (4:33)** : lex._

 

_**Lincoln (4:35)** : youre not replying so???_

 

  
**Lexa (4:36)** : I have a number of blond clients, I don't know who you're talking about.

 

_**Lincoln (4:36)** : well lexa how many of those clients have a vagina?_

 

  
**Lexa (4:37)** : Stop talking about women like that, Lincoln.

 

_**Lincoln (4:37)** : ok i am sorry_

 

_**Lincoln (4:38)** : but really, is it the blonde girl? i need to know so i can order a pizza already if youre not gonna buy them for me_

 

  
**Lexa (4:38)** : I'm bringing pizza.

 

  
**Lexa (4:38)** : And Costia.

 

 

//

 

They arrive at Lincoln's place ten minutes after getting his (and Costia's) favorite pizza. The little girl had never met Lincoln before nor did Lexa mention his name to the kid, but she definitely thinks they'd get along. Lexa doesn't knock before barging in to find Lincoln looking through his fridge and taking out a bottle of blue Gatorade.

 

Lincoln leaves the bottle on the counter top before walking towards them, crouching down to level the little girl's height. "Hey, buddy."

 

"I'm Costia. Are you Lincoln?" She asks, "why don't you have any hairs on your head?"

 

He chuckles before looking up at Lexa, "Someone thought it was a good idea to shave my head while I was sleeping." Costia gasps at the thought and Lexa just rolls her eyes, "Well Costia, I hope you don't grow up to be a merciless head-shaving monster."

 

"You very _tearfully_ told me you wanted to be a different person when you wake up!" Lexa argues, playfully covering Costia's ears. "It's not my fault you left a razor on your nightstand." 

 

"You didn't have to shave the half of my left eyebrow."

 

"You grew them back, get over it."

 

"The kid brought it up, I'm sorry if I feel a little triggered." Lincoln says with a grin as he stands back up and embraces Lexa. "My apartment missed you, Lex."

 

"I missed it too, especially your wine cellar."

 

Costia tugs Lexa's coat, "Is he your boyfriend?"

 

"I respect myself more than that, Cos."

 

Lincoln always talked about wanting children, but of course he has to find a hand to put a ring on.

 

"You're the only man I know who's already thinking about marriage right after you spotted someone you like for the first time." Lexa comments when the three of them are sitting on the floor after they finished the pizza. Costia, of course, is drawing something on a piece of paper while Lincoln and Lexa are on their third chess match (Really, Lexa always wins but Lincoln insists on asking for rematches until both of their brains have finally melted. He only won against her once, and that was their first time seeing each other, Lincoln's eyebrows were still perfect then). 

 

"You'd want to marry her too if you were there, Lex, I kid you not." Lincoln tells her, moving his bishop to a square perfectly diagonal to Lexa's king. "Check." 

 

"Did you at least try to talk to her?" Lexa says. Lincoln didn't know Lexa's rook was right there, his bishop is already gone when he realizes it. 

 

"Ah, you've got to be kidding me!" Lincoln half screams, his jaw slightly ajar. "And no, I did not do such thing. I was extremely sweaty and reeking, I don't want her to remember me as the creepy smelly guy in the gym." 

 

Thankfully, Costia decided it was a good idea to push the chess board aside--much to Lincoln's pleasure, misplacing all the pieces, and to show them her new drawing. There was three stick figures on the paper, one smaller than the other two, assuming the little one was Costia herself. The stick figure on the left of Costia has brown hair and the right one has yellow.

 

"Is the small one you?" Lincoln asks,  Costia gives him a nod.  "Who are these other people?" 

 

"Raven and Clarke! I played with them last week, I wanna see them again." The little girl faces Lexa with a pout, "Can I please see them again?" And good lord, if Lexa had a tangible weakness, it'd be a pouting, eyelash-batting Costia. Lexa misses Raven and if she would allow just admit it to herself, she misses her favorite client too.

 

"Is that your blondie, Lex? She already met your family?" Lincoln grins at her, "And you've got the nerve to tease me about marriage?"

 

Lexa just rolls her eyes, "We're leaving, Cos." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a year and a half since i last updated hahahahahahahahahahahahahhahaha pls dont kill me im still clexa trash 
> 
> sorry for this, better chapters coming next time i hope
> 
> have a wonderful day. 
> 
> (follow me on tumblr! iwannabeyourlefthandman.tumblr.com)


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